


Home is All the Little Pieces of Our Lives

by tryslora



Series: All Our Yesterdays [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshees, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Divorce, Home, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikki helps Jackson hunt for his new home, and takes advantage of the time with her Papa to ask some pointed questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is All the Little Pieces of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt this week for fullmoon_ficlet was "Home" and it was a perfect prompt for this series, since Jackson needs a new home! As always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

“I like this one.” Nikki walks through the apartment as if she owns it, pulling open the glass doors of the built-in cabinets. “It looks like money, but it still looks like a home. Like it’d be okay to put your feet up on the sofa, and throw popcorn at the TV.”

“I didn’t know that was a requirement,” Jackson says dryly. He leans against the wall and watches her. There’s no point in him opening every drawer, not until Nikki’s looked her fill. This is the third apartment they’ve seen today, and each one has taken more than thirty minutes for her to inspect it completely. This is the first one she has actually _liked_ , and he gets the feeling that only means it will take longer.

She turns back toward him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Popcorn throwing is _definitely_ a requirement, and I can tell you that shag rugs are _not_ helpful. Mrs. McCall got Caleb a new vacuum cleaner to keep in the basement because she got tired of us always bringing hers downstairs to clean up. Hardwood floors, like these?” She stomps her foot against the floor, her Vans making a dull thud. “Perfect. Easy to sweep up, you can put down a throw rug for times when you want to sprawl on the floor… totally perfect.”

Nikki ducks out of the kitchen and into the back bedroom. “I like all the wood,” she calls out. “And the built-in china cabinet is awesome, plus the kitchen looks like it was done recently. It all needs some paint, but I bet that if we do it yourself, the landlord will knock something of the first month’s rent.” She peeks back out of the bedroom. “Not that you can’t afford it. Angie says you’re horrifically rich and that her mom keeps telling you not to spoil her. She says she won’t get spoiled, but I’m not sure she’s right. She’s still pretty little.”

“Are you spoiled?” Jackson follows her into the room where she has plopped down on the single bed, pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. Her head is tilted, surveying the pastel pink walls.

“I hate pink. We need to paint this before I can sleep in here. Maybe green?” She shrugs her shoulders. “Dad doesn’t spoil me. He’s really down to earth. I don’t get things just because they’re things, and neither does Caleb. I think Isaac spoils his daughter a little, but Derek doesn’t spoil the girls at all. But I bet if Derek ever has a boy, he’ll be spoiled rotten.”

Nikki pats the bed next to her, and Jackson carefully sits, not entirely comfortable sitting on a bed that reeks of the stale scent of storage and the faint odor of someone who slept in it once upon a time. “We need to talk,” she says solemnly.

“About spoiling you?” Jackson shakes his head. “I’m in enough trouble with your dad already. I’m not going to start giving you the world and give him something else to yell at me for.” He knows that isn’t what she means, but he wants to deflect. She’s been trying to get something out all morning, and he doesn’t want to help her ask questions that he’s not ready to answer. Not until Stiles is ready. He may disagree with Stiles, but he won’t go behind his back.

“I want to know more about my mom,” she says plainly.

Of course, Stiles raised her. She’s not going to back down that easily.

“Then you need to ask your dad,” he tells her firmly. “You can’t play one of us off the other. It doesn’t work that way, Nik.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do!” She bounces a little, nose wrinkled. “Seriously, it’s _not_. It’s just… Dad won’t say _anything_. I don’t even know her _name_. I know she died when I was little, I know you adopted me, and I _know_ I’m loved. I have _always_ known I’m loved, and Dad said that’s the most important thing. But I want to know about _her_. I want to know why she was important to you, and why she had me, and where’s my biological father in all of this.” Her lips purse thinly. “Most importantly, though, I want to know why Dad thinks he has to _hide_ this. I want to know what he’s afraid of. Because he _is_.”

Jackson can’t deny that. “He is. But you have to ask _him_ why.” He covers her hand with his, squeezing. It’s different than being Angie’s best uncle. This relationship with Nikki is old and new at the same time, and when she burrows in close to his shoulder, and he slides an arm around to hold on, it still feels like something to treasure. This is why he’s staying in California, making himself a new home here. This is why he’s giving up everything he’s made in the last ten years, because none of it compares to his daughter.

“I’m going to keep asking him,” Nikki mutters.

“And he’s going to give in eventually.” Jackson kisses her temple. “I’m not letting up on it, either. And I think you’re right, this is the best apartment we’ve seen, and I like it. It feels like home.”

She doesn’t answer, staring at something on the floor. Jackson’s gaze narrows and his nostrils flare, trying to figure out what it is. There’s something at the edge of his senses, something he can’t quite identify as his hackles rise. “Nik?”

When she looks at him, her eyes are blank, features slack.

She opens her mouth and begins to scream.

“Nik!” Jackson tries to hold her at the same time as he fumbles for his phone, knowing he needs to reach Stiles. Nikki’s questions don’t matter any more. Jackson gets the feeling it’s too late for answers. And for someone, it’s just too late.


End file.
